


Liquid Frost

by Dovahlock221



Series: Panic [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anxiety, Comforting John Watson, Descriptions of Anxiety, M/M, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Sick Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovahlock221/pseuds/Dovahlock221
Summary: On a night where comfort is due, one doctor takes to caring for his dear detective.





	Liquid Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If descriptions of anxiety or panic attacks are bothersome for you, please read with caution. 
> 
> I was inspired to try my hand at writing in second person pov after reading Ellipsical's beautiful fic  whiskies neat !!

It wakes you from your sleep.

_Cold._

Liquid frost runs through your veins, biting and licking at your insides.

The weight sitting on your chest.

Full.

Tight.

You inhale just to see if you can. The wheeze is unexpected, shocking you so much that the edges of sleep fall away. It feels as though you haven’t taken a proper breath in days and the inability to do so leaves you panting.

Chest stuttering, you place a trembling hand over your eyes to block out the hazy moonlight shining through your window in a weak attempt to calm yourself. Darkness falls over you like a blanket. The quiet calm lasts only a moment.

Loud.

Noise.

Too much.

Rain beating against your window. The rustle of bed sheets beneath you. Even the desperate sound of your own shallow breathing grates on your ears.

Hold your breath.

Hold it until the weight grows impossibly heavier, settling comfortably enough to burn you from the inside. Melting the frost. The burn leaves you gasping.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

A growl rips from your throat as you shove a pillow over your face, the tapping rain becoming incessantly louder.

Before you can settle under the suffocating softness, the pillow is being pulled away.

John's face comes into view and that’s when you notice the chair that normally lives in the corner of your room has been pulled next to your bed. In harsh moonlight, you take in the bags under John’s eyes. The redness left behind on his cheek where his hand had rested as he watched over-

_Oh._

“You’ve been out of it for a while,” John confirms without realizing he’s doing so.

“John. I-”

At the sound of your voice, the tired lines around his eyes and the sag in his body melt away replaced with concern. He takes you in. Your breathing. Your shaking hands still raised by your face.

“Alright,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around your chest to sit you up and pull you against him. You grasp onto his back nails digging in hard. He doesn’t even flinch as you gasp against his chest.

“Breathe, Sherlock,” he whispers, lips run along your hairline and you can feel yourself melting. “Breathe for me.”

You shake your head against his heart. And even though the sound of it is beautiful, it’s too much. The rasp of cotton against cotton. The _thump thump thump_ of his heart. You wrench yourself away, too upset to care about the cry that rips itself from your throat.

John looks sad. You cannot bear it so look down to focus on your clenched fist. A soft hand comes to rest on your chin and gently pulls until your gaze is forced to connect with his once more. He stares at you. You can see the moment he decides something, eyes pleading with yours as if asking permission. You stare back desperately.

With a tiny nod, John’s hands make their way to your cheeks resting for only a moment before moving to cover your ears.

“Shut your eyes, sweetheart,” John mouths and maybe he said it out loud but it’s quiet now.

The effect is immediate.

Dark.

Quiet.

_Calm._

John Watson is a genius.

You breathe and breathe and _breathe_. With each inhale the burn fades. The weight lightens. All of your focus is on the strong hands against your ears, the fingers tangling in your hair. The soft breath of whispered words caressing your face.

And even though your eyes are closed, you can see him. John’s beautiful, soft face in front of you.

You can feel from the twitch in his fingers that he is itching to do more. To run his hands over your tense body. To whispers reassurances. But it’s enough. This man, this beautiful man grounding you in his arms. Radiating comforting heat. It’s bliss. And you can feel your body sinking into the feel of it.

He follows.

Keeping his hands firm against your ears as you both collapse sideways. His breath is a whisper against your face. You're breathing his air.

The last thing you feel is his body pressing closer to you and a whisper of lips against your forehead.

Quiet.

Calm.

_Loved._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I would love to know what you thought!


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